FML

The next morning I was awoken by my phone ringing non-stop. It was Emily. As I looked up at a little more than just at my phone I realized I wasn't at home. It definitely didn't look like a hotel either. As soon as I recognized that I had no idea where I was I shot up in bed. "My fucking head," I groaned while quickly shutting my eyes. There was no denying it, I definitely had too much to drink last night.

Slowly, I began to open my eyes again. I looked down at myself and noticed I wasn't in the dress I was wearing last night. Instead, I was in an oversized t-shirt that I'm guessing is for some band that I didn't know. I was slightly relieved when I noticed that, thankfully, no one else was in the room with me. Turning my head, I noticed there was a small note with a glass of water and two Advil sitting on the nightstand beside me. Swallowing the Advil, I picked up the note.

Harper,

Don't worry, nothing happened. Here's my number, call me when you get up.

The note then had a phone number scrawled on it and was signed by someone named Jack. Please tell me I didn't go home with the guy from the bar last night, was all I could think before finally dialing the number.

"Hello?" The person on the other end questioned.

"Hey, this is Harper," I croaked out. My voice was scratchy and dry as could be. It surprised me how dry it was.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Like shit I guess... Can you tell me where I am?"

"My apartment. I'm literally almost at the door. We'll talk in two minutes." He said before hanging up.

I honestly just wanted to get out of this stranger's apartment. There was nothing cute about my current appearance. Not only that, but as a Whitney, I was in a very compromising position. Who knew what this guy wanted to do with me. He could come back and tie me up and demand millions for my return. There was really nothing I knew about this dude other than the fact his name is Jack.

I quickly called Emily then.

"Harp, where the hell are you?" She questioned sounding slightly angry.

"I honestly have no idea. I guess I'm at that Jack guy's apartment from last night, but like I have no idea how I got here. He's almost back I guess, will you just stay on the line to make sure he doesn't like rape and kidnap me?"

"Yeah, I can definitely do that. But can you hurry up? Cornelius is pissed that I'm not home."

Before I could reply I heard the front door open. "He's here, we gotta shut up," I whispered into the phone. As I was laying my phone face down on the mattress, the man was opening the bedroom door.

"Woah, you look rough," he smiled at me. "What do you remember about last night?"

"I don't know... I got separated from Em at some point and ended up dancing on you. I fell on my ass at some point and after that, all I remember is a brief second of you and I making out in the bathroom then some lights flashing overhead as I thought I was heading home. We didn't... did we?" I asked looking down at the fact I was in my panties and an oversized t-shirt.

He chuckled then, "No we didn't hook up. I figured you were too out of it to properly consent. You insisted that you needed something other than a 'fifteen hundred dollar silk dress' to sleep in. So I handed you a t-shirt and let you change yourself."

"Oh thank God," I said with a sigh of relief.

He then continued. "You did call me in for cuddles and I saw your dress on the floor and figured I should hang it up for you if it really was $1500. You kept asking for cuddles and I told you that I wouldn't while you're in that condition. Then you quickly fell asleep and I slept out on the couch."

"I guess thanks for not taking advantage of me," I smiled shyly at him. "I didn't tell you my last name, did I?"

"You gave me some rant about Whitney's having a reputation or some shit. I didn't really get what it meant."

Oh, thank God, was all I could think. I'm usually really good about not giving out my name just because I didn't want someone taking advantage of me for being a Whitney. Thankfully people in Baltimore don't care about dynasties nearly as much as they do on the Upper East Side. "I'm glad you don't get what that means."

"Alright?" He questioned wondering why some random girl was being so weird and secretive about her name. "I don't really wanna be rude, but like, I have some of the guys from my band coming over so like, if you wanna change that would be great. You don't have to leave, but like, I'd rather they not see some girl in one of our t-shirts and panties. They kinda hate when I hook up with a fan."

"Alright, if you think y'all are such hot shots I guess I'll get outta here?" I questioned thinking this guy was full of shit.

He then looked at me with a face of confusion. "You don't know who I am?"

"Should I?"

"Well, you were at my bar opening last night so... kind of."

"Sorry?"

"It's cool," he now laughed. "For real though, please put something else on."

He then got up off of the bed and left the room. After he closed the door I continued my phone call with Emily. "What the hell was that?"

"Bro," she laughed, "I love that he thought you were supposed to know who he is. Like, you're a God damn Whitney, if anything he should know who you are."

"Right? Like, who doesn't know the Whitney's? We're prevalent throughout the east coast. Last time I checked Maryland was part of the east coast."

"What's his band's name, is it something stupid?"

I slipped the shirt over my head and laid it on the bed so I could look at it. "All Time Low? Have you ever heard of them?"

"Maybe once. Let me Google them."

"Sounds good," I said before placing my phone on Jack's dresser. Then I walked over to my hung up dress. Taking it off the hanger I slipped it over my head. It was wrinkled from laying it on the ground. Looks like I'd have to stop at the dry cleaner. I then went back to my phone. "Anything good by these guys?"

"Well, you went home with a twenty-six-year-old last night," Emily laughed into the phone.

"Are you fucking kidding me? That's so old!" I scrunched my nose up slightly disgusted with myself.

The door then cracked open, "Everything alright in here?"

"Yep, just peachy," I rolled my eyes knowing he couldn't see me. He then fully opened the door to catch me talking on the phone.

"Wanna take your call outside then?"

"Can I just have your address so my driver can come get me?"

"A driver? You must really be a rich bitch."

"Em, can you hear this?" I laughed into the phone.

She was laughing as I asked the question. "If only he knew how rich a Whitney/Vanderbilt grandbaby really is."

"Seriously, address?" I asked again looking Jack dead in the eyes. After he gave it I repeated it back to Emily. "Alright chica, I guess I'm gonna hang up. Just call me when you and Thomas get here."

"You're also kind of rude," Jack stated staring at me.

I rolled my eyes once again. "Where are my shoes?"

"I don't know. You lost them at the club or something because you weren't wearing any shoes when I carried you out of the taxi."

"Ew. Did I ride a taxi? Gross. Honestly, though, I need those shoes. They cost probably ten months of rent for this appartment." I was annoyed at the fact I was stuck in Baltimore. The Upper East Side is where it's at, this place was just... meh. It didn't help that I was stuck with some guy that thought he was all that.

He looked at me in disbelief. Jack couldn't even answer me, instead, he rolled his eyes, shook his head, and walked away.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you!" I yelled after him. No one, and I mean no one, ignored a Whitney.

"Alex, can you believe I brought such a princess home to be kind to her and not take advantage of her?" I heard him ask someone I couldn't see from inside his bedroom.

I followed him out of the room then. I was greeted by the stares of Jack and three other guys.

"Oh shit, Jack. I can't believe you brought a socialite home," one of the boys said.

"You know who this is?" Jack questioned looking between me and the guy who recognized me.

"At least someone does," I rolled my eyes trying to scour the room for my heels.

All three of the guys on the couch then looked at Jack with a 'you fucked up' expression. The one who recognized me then spoke again, "I would never have pegged Harper Whitney as such a stuck up bitch. Maybe I should have listened to Cordelia at that fundraiser for the Whitney Museum of American Art."

"Don't talk about Cordelia in my presence." I snapped with an eye roll. Even when I'm not in New York, Cordelia finds a way to be in my life. "I'm soo sorry I seem like a bitch. Maybe if I knew where my $10,000 heels were I wouldn't be."

"She was nicer when she was drunk," a different guy said. This one had a rose tattoo on his hand.

I then looked at all of them confused, "I met you all last night?"

"You sure did," the third man said. This one had tattoos all over both of his arms.

Just then I was cut off by my phone ringing. "Hello?"

"Hey girly, Thomas and I are downstairs waiting. Let's go back to New York!"

"Be right down baby cakes."

Without saying goodbye to anyone, I headed to the front door. "I guess thanks for not taking advantage of me. Bye."

Without waiting for a response, I was out the door with it closing behind me.